Crack Or How to Break Ice Without Really Trying
by ryou-falling
Summary: In the end, it was this that broke them apart. Not lust or greed or vengeance, but the small flaws in their thinking and sanity. The tiny cracks.


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I don't own Yugioh. I made no money writing this. God save the Queen.

Warnings: Angst, Yaoi

Author's Note: My first 'official' leap into fanfictiondom...I might twist an ankle, just for the hell of it!

**Crack (Or How to Break Ice Without Really Trying)**

If he stares long enough into this mirror, Ryou believes he will see himself again. The familiar contours of his face, the softer lines and wider eyes. The tender curve of his mouth. They will return slowly like cherry blossoms; one at a time until the whole thing is beautiful again. A delicate reconstruction of features.

Stare as he might, the reconstruction does not begin today.

He is caught between himself and that Other that once inhabited him. And so he remains not shattered but crackled, the destruction subtle and gorgeous in its complexity. A masterwork that has taken his yami years to complete. Even now, even with it all over, he can see the lines and fissures that once divided them. They are shallow beneath his skin, crackled veins of memory and past lives, blue fissures and lines.

Fissures and lines.

In the end, it was this that broke them apart. Not lust or greed or vengeance, but the small flaws in their thinking and sanity. The tiny cracks. Their shared soul had been like early ice and everything, everything, had fallen through in the end.

With a small sigh, he leans forward until he can feel the coldness of the mirror threaten his forehead. He runs shaking fingers through his hair to keep himself from screaming and breaking the glass. It wouldn't be proper to break it, after all. Young gentlemen never throw tantrums. They never scream or cry either. Or cut themselves to watch the blood. Or murder.

Or lust.

A deadly sin, that. In the end, it almost killed him. He has denied the fact for so long that even now, he finds it hurts to admit it. But oh, how he lusted after his yami. Wanted him body and spirit, flesh and soul. Is this his punishment, then? To be so chillingly alone, with the constant reminder, those lines and fissures of his other half, of the blunt horror/pleasure of it all.

Ryou turns away so that he does not have to look at the remnant of his other half, the small crimson spark still in his eyes.

"_Is this what you want?" The spirit of the ring whispers in his ear, his breath cool against his skin, his body, that strange imitation of corporeal beauty, a frosted whisper as it presses against him. Pale fingers are snaking up his spine, are tangling in his hair, are threatening to twist it and pull it. For a shadow, his yami can cause so much pain._

_Ryou cannot answer for a long moment. Breath shallow, he strains to see his yami's eyes, to gage his intention. This is his yami's game now, though, and he won't let him see. This is his endless game of teasing and torture, of airy kisses, and caresses. Lips against his palms. Hands slipping between his thighs. A mouth trailing its way down his belly. Promises promises. And then, when Ryou is distracted by the pleasure of it all and consents, darkness as the spirit rips his body away from him, slams his consciousness into his soul room and locks the door._

_The spirit growls_. "_Is. This. What. You. Want?" He grinds his hips against Ryou. The hands, identical to his own, push through Ryou's hair and the spirit _finally _looks at him directly. Devilish features. His own features. They swim out of focus as he is kissed. Hard. A tongue thrusts briefly between his lips._

_Ryou gasps. "You're going to steal my body again," he says in a voice that trembles beneath the strain of speech. Speech is unnatural here in their soul room. He wants to bury his mouth against the yami's pale skin. He want to wrap it around his...Ryou shakes his head. "I won't let you. Not today." _

"_You won't let me? Hm..." His yami licks his lower lip slowly, taps his tongue against his teeth. "I'd rethink that if I were you."_

_"Why?" Ryou is panting now, miserable and hungry and wanting._ _"So you can leave me here? Alone? Ignore me until you want to 'borrow' my skin again?" The words come out in a rush, and he forces anger into them, though even he has a hard time believing it. The spirit could ask for his very soul at this point and he is not positive he could deny giving it to him._

_But the spirit _has_ to ask, has to get permission. That's the horrible catch. Those are the rules and his yami knows it. It has always been Ryou's prerogative, his only privilege as hikari._

"_I need 'your' body," the spirit says, a low and seductive growl. The trump card. "One last time. One last time and I'll never ask you for it again."_

"_Then you'll never speak to me again."_

_The spirit pauses, his lips against Ryou's neck, his cold chest feathering a heartbeat against him. "Perhaps."_

"_Then why should I give you what you're asking?" Ryou swallows hard, reminding himself, as he always does, that the spirit might not come back to him. It has always been the terrible truth between them: that one half is a living, breathing boy and the other merely a breath. His yami is hatred and power and evil and strength...and little more than air. He can so easily slip away._

_Ryou pauses._

_'One last time and I'll never ask you for it again...' There is something frightening about the way his yami said it, some strange lilt of finality. A stretch of silence passes and Ryou realizes, for the first time, that his yami is afraid. And not with the same blind, mortal fear that he is familiar with, but with the cold resolute dread only the dead can muster. A spark of alarm ignites in Ryou's belly but before he can run away, the spirit closes his eyes and lays his head against his shoulder. He has never done this before. The gesture is tender, intimate and so full of sudden, uncharacteristic HUMAN sorrow that Ryou's throat constricts. "You'll give it to me," the spirit says quietly." Because I'll give you what you've paid for, hikari mine. I always told you I would."_

_Young gentlemen do not cry. _

This is it. _Ryou shivers away the tightness in his throat. Do not cry. _He is not coming back. _Do not cry. "Since when did you become a whore?" he asks, and the acid in his throat makes the words bitter._

_An icy hand slides over his hips. "Since the world elected me to end it," his yami replies with a tiny smirk. It is the last expression Ryou will ever see on that face. He closes his eyes as the spirit falls against him and they tumble down in a sudden, frenzied heap of pale limbs and white hair and heavy breathing onto the ephemeral floor. _

_For a time, there are no fissures or lines between them. They are pale and strong, cold and eternal. Immortal._

_And, of course, the moment passes. Melts and dies quietly as reality clutches them both in her warm, cruel hand._

But they will return slowly like cherry blossoms; one at a time until the whole thing is beautiful again.

If he stares into this mirror long enough, Ryou knows he will see himself again.

/reviews are always welcome...so...review away/


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